


These Invisible Scars

by wingeddserpent



Category: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: Bonding, Canon Related, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-20
Updated: 2011-06-20
Packaged: 2017-10-20 14:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingeddserpent/pseuds/wingeddserpent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lightning and Snow pointedly try not to talk about the important things.</p><p>Minor spoilers for Chapter Eleven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Invisible Scars

Snow gives a crooked grin and sits down beside her. “Hey, Sis,” he says, and then turns his gaze up to Cocoon. “Rough day, huh?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs and flexes her fingers.

Behind them, the others’ voices taper off. “It’s Fang’s watch. You wanna get some sleep?”

Lightning shakes her head and then captures the sleeve of his coat before he can leave. “Snow?” her voice catches, and she releases him like she’s been burned. “Never mind. Get some rest.”

He hesitates, but her gaze has already turned back to their home and he doesn’t know what to say or do. Despite the resemblance, she’s not Serah.

Snow gently clasps her shoulder and she tenses.

With a sigh, he leaves, hands in pockets, and he grasps the crystal tear.

 

It happens too fast for him to stop it—an enemy breaks his concentration, and the rest no longer focus on him. He can see what’s going to happen before it does, but there’s not a damn thing he can do—Lightning’s eyes go wide as she takes the hit, and then she crumbles, face down in the dirt.

Snow swears, and shifts to Commando, because he can't do anything useful, can't heal, can't revive her, can't do a damn thing except beat the thing that hurt her. And he does. Under the fury of his fists the beast goes down, much harder than Lightning had. It's a small consolation.

After it falls, he crouches next to Lightning and checks her pulse. It's there, faint and butterfly-like, but there. He lifts her into his arms and startles—because she feels tiny; tiny in a way he doesn't expect; he expects her strength, expects her anger, and expects her determination. Sometimes, it's easy to forget that she is—was—human; it's easy to forget that she can break too.

It's a silly thing to be reminded of but—somehow—it catches him off-guard, and he tightens his hold on her and picks up the pace.

Once Snow reaches camp, Hope is on his feet in an instant. "Light!"

"Don't worry. She just needs a bit of healing. We got ambushed a little ways outside of camp," Snow tries for a reassuring grin, but it's damn hard to be reassuring when Lightning is sluggishly bleeding in his arms. "I didn't have any Phoenix Downs."

Hope reaches out with a glowing blue hand and gently places it on Lightning's cheek; she sits up with a ragged gasp and then lays back in Snow’s arms, blinking, trying to determine where they are as Hope pumps more healing magic in her system. The wounds slowly fade and Snow breathes an inward sigh of relief. Serah's sister isn't dying on his watch—not today.

With a murmured, "Thanks, Hope," that makes the boy beam, Lightning sits up again and finally notices Snow. Her brows furrow as she examines him, as she realizes he'd carried her and is still holding her as if she'll fly into a dozen pieces and disappear if he lets go. Lightning clears her throat, arching an eyebrow pointedly, and something stutters in his chest, and he drops her like he's been struck by goddamn _lightning_ and she blinks in surprise and lands flat on her back.

Snow beats a hasty retreat while Hope kneels next to Lightning, the two of them looking so confused that he remembers to breathe.

 

"Well, quite a show you had goin' there," Fang's voice breaks his reverie and he cringes, because Fang is Fang, is harsh and intelligent and has no qualms saying those things that he absolutely cannot hear.

"Not right now, Fang," he says, and tries to push past her, "I need..."

Her hand on his shoulder stops him and he wonders again how anyone can be that strong without being behemoth-sized. "Now, darlin', really. Relax. Calm down. Listen to me."

And he tries not to, tries to turn and keep going, because she can't make him stay, can't force him to do anything, but dammit, he trusts her. He trusts her advice, trusts her to watch his back. Hell, he'd trust her with Serah's life. His hands tighten into fists and he can tell Fang notices by the way her expression softens from that predator's smirk into a look she gives Vanille a lot. "Fang," he says, "I don't think there's anything to talk about."

"Oh, you don’t, do you?" Fang grins and claps him on the back hard enough to make him stagger under the weight.

Snow grins. "Yep," and he reaches out and ruffles her hair and she looks positively wounded and they both laugh. "Not today, Fang. Just... don't go there."

Her expression melts from good humor to something darker. "Snow, you know exactly—"

"I don't know anything," he says, and then he leaves and doesn't look back.

 

Lightning glances at him when he approaches and pulls her bare feet from the water. It's a funny thing, but he doesn't think he's seen her without her boots before; he half-grins.

Snow scratches the back of his head. "Sorry. I ah—about what happened earlier," he clarifies and then swallows.

Her face doesn't change as she regards him and then she shrugs. "Don't worry about it," she says, "I'm fine now. That's the important thing, isn't it?" Lightning turns her gaze back to the small lake.

"Right," he says and looks at the water too.

Cocoon’s reflection glimmers in it, and his breath catches in his throat. "It's getting dark," he points out.

"Maybe you should get some rest," she says, voice soft, "I'll take your watch." And his hands clench into fists again, because does she really think they're all too dim to realize that she doesn't sleep?

Okay, so maybe he's not the sharpest tack in the box, but he's not an idiot. His face twists into a grimace.

"Nah," he says.

Lightning shrugs and scoots over; he smiles at her peace offering, and kneels to unlace his boots and then pulls them off. His socks quickly follow. The water feels good on his feet and he lets out a sigh and swears he can see Lightning's mouth twitch, a softness in her eyes that reminds him nothing of Serah.

He shuts his eyes and tilts his head back.

"How'd you get that scar?" she asks, pointing at the one of his foot. "It's pretty gnarly."

It draws a laugh from him. That's one way to put it. "I got it last year. Maqui was trying to fix the dishwasher and he did something to it, alright. It totally malfunctioned and silverware was flying everywhere; I managed to step on one of Lebreau's kitchen knives trying to get the thing shut off," he says and laughs harder, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

"Nice move, Hero," she says, smirking.

"Alright, Sis, your turn," and he nudges her in the ribs, "Show me one of your embarrassing scars."

Her expression tightens and she looks up at Cocoon, searching for something. And then he can feel her relax next to him, can feel her warmth through his coat, and he shivers despite the fact it's not really that cold. One of his hands strays to his pocket and he fingers Serah's tear.

With a quick movement, she pulls down the black arm warmer she wears, and he can see the long, thin scar that stretches all the way from her bicep to her wrist. She meets his gaze and smirks again. "When I was fourteen, I was practicing for a gymnastics competition. I flipped off one of the beams, ready to do some complicated landing or another, when I realized that I hadn't properly sheathed one of my knives. Things went downhill from there."

He can't help the startled laugh. So, even Lightning Farron had made amateur's mistakes as a kid.

"You carried around knives?" he asks, then frowns. "You were in gymnastics?"

The smirk deepens and she leans closer to him, eyes never leaving his. "My father was a blacksmith and I was a very active kid."

"Right," he says, and then shifts uncomfortably.

There's a long pause and then he smiles. Without a word, he rolls up the sleeve of his coat until she can see the mottled, fading scar on his elbow. Her eyebrow arches and he grins. "I was fourteen, too," he says, "Except I was climbing a tree and I broke my arm. The bone poked out and everything."

"Sounds fun," she remarks.

Going solemn, he nods. "It really was. Just waiting for a rainy day so I can do it again."

Both of them grin and he lowers his arm; they turn their gaze back to the lake, watching the reflection of the world they're determined to save. Lightning moves, and lifts the hem of her shirt so that he can see a newer scar—still puckered and shiny—that runs across her torso, just above her navel.

"This was my fault," she says wryly, "Right before my birthday, I got in a fight with my Guardian Corps squad, so I said I'd go patrol alone. Of course, that was the one night something I couldn't exactly handle myself showed up. The last thing I did before the giant cat thing knocked me out was call Amodar. In the process, well, I got this.”

"You, not playing well with others?" he teases, and she shoots him a flat look that makes him chuckle.

There's another pause and then he glances down at her and rolls up the leg of his pants to the knee, so that she can see the twisted scar that is on the front of his leg, from foot to knee. "This one I got about two years ago. I was out looking for Gadot, and I stumbled across a bucking chocobo in the streets. Of course, it panicked more when I tried to calm it down, and its claws tore me open."

She smiles to herself and shakes her head, fingers drumming a beat on her thigh, and then she glances up at him, considering, and whatever she's looking for, whatever she expects from him, she finds, because she nods once. Lightning shifts, and tugs the hem of her skirt a little higher, so that he can just barely make out the black shorts underneath, and he sees it. There's a scar there, on her upper thigh, still mottled and angry-looking, and she smiles faintly. "Got this one in the tunnels of Palumpolem," she tells him quietly. "Hope and I were going through, and I had finally figured out that what we were doing was wrong. I told him that killing you wouldn't accomplish anything, that there were more important things than revenge..."

Her face stutters, and she turns away from him, shoulders hunched; he reaches out and puts a hand on her shoulder. This time, she doesn't shy away.

"He was so upset with me, so confused, that the next time we were attacked he was too distracted to heal every wound, and I was so focused on fighting that I didn't realize it had scarred until it was too late. Poor kid felt terrible," she murmurs.

For a moment, he can't think of anything, can't think of anything to say, because it's becoming more than a friendly telling of tales, more than a recount of past idiocy. And he's not sure how he feels about that, about bonding with Lightning, because on one level, it's great, because she's gonna be part of his family—his sister—and on another level, it's hard, hard, because Lightning is Lightning, because he cares, because it could all be over tomorrow, because she's Serah's sister, and just looking at her hurts.

And then he grins at her and ruffles her hair, and she blinks at him and then hisses and ducks beneath his hand. "Snow," she says, trying to sound irritated but she mostly sounds amused.

"Light?" he mocks, and she shakes her head at him, shifting.

Well, it's now or never. He tugs the zipper of his shirt down, until the scar that stretches diagonal across his chest is revealed; Lightning averts her gaze, shoulders hunching again, and watches the water. "Got this when some kid tried to kill me," he says, "Coulda been a lot worse—we both could have died or this woman I know could have decided not to heal me and then her sister would have had to deal with a husband with this really gross chest."

Her lips twitch in the corners and he thinks she understands.

Neither of them say anything else, just watching the water, feeling the cool breeze on their skin. It's not much of a surprise when she reaches into his coat, not much of a surprise when her fingers tighten around Serah's tear, gently so gentle, and pulls it out, watching it like maybe Serah’ll give her the answers.

Their shared scar doesn't really need to be talked about—the loss of Serah has wounded them both deeply and they know it.

When Lightning leans into him, he puts an arm around her, and if they're both shaking, it's easy to pretend they're just cold.

**Works inspired by this one:**

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